


Taking Naps in the Sands of Time

by FandomTrash24601



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Jim and Amanda become besties, Jim regrets some decisions, M/M, Time Travel, baby Spock is cuter than grownup Spock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-05
Updated: 2018-08-05
Packaged: 2019-06-22 05:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15575208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrash24601/pseuds/FandomTrash24601
Summary: While exploring an alien planet, Jim accidentally time travels and finds himself on Vulcan-that-was in late 2229.





	Taking Naps in the Sands of Time

“You say this civilization had the ability to time travel?” Jim asked, stooping to pass through a partially collapsed archway. Behind him, in the main foyer of the temple or wherever they were, stood four or five other science geeks and a couple of security officers. Spock had disappeared through the doorway, though, so Jim was following.

Spock was already a quarter of the way down the long hall when Jim entered, examining the native language carved into the walls. Detailed but faded images covered the walls, and Jim guessed that the writing -- almost like cuneiform from the ancient Mesopotamian civilization on Earth -- described the images. Faint light streamed through the stained glass windows, casting pale green, geometric shapes onto Spock’s back.

“Indeed.”

“How?” Jim asked, craning his neck to look around at the elaborate architecture. “I mean, didn't you say that they were barely out of the Bronze Age?”

“If we were to compare this species to humans, yes. A species need not be technologically advanced to achieve time travel, though. The Olkaarens did not develop projectile weapons until after they had developed advanced computer systems capable of taking them to space.”

“Time travel and projectile weapons are two _very_ different things,” Jim said.

He approached Spock and looked over his shoulder at the translation of a portion of the wall. It seemed to be some kind of myth or fable, with heroes and deities.

“Interesting,” Jim said. “A portion of it didn't translate.”

“Most curious,” Spock said.

Jim frowned down at the tricorder, trying to wrap his mouth around the words. The language, when translated, reminded Jim of inverse Welsh -- too many vowels, hardly any consonants. Jim looked up after his third butchered attempt at pronouncing the untranslated portion to find Spock looking at him with a look that was uniquely Spock.

“What are you attempting to do?” Spock asked, as if the answer wasn't completely obvious.

“I'm trying to pronounce the untranslated phrase,” Jim said, grinning. “Maybe something weird will happen, huh?”

“I advise against it,” Spock said blandly. “If something odd happens to you, it will be entirely your fault. Do not expect sympathy.”

Jim laughed and began to try to read again. After four more attempts, he felt as if he had something near passable. Once more, he began to read it through.

“Captain,” Spock said. “I must insist that you desist. There is much left to be done.”

“Yeah, hang on, just one more time,” Jim said.

He was _so close,_ he could tell. It was like a puzzle, really, although perhaps one better suited for a linguist, like Uhura. He began his final read through, and felt a sense of accomplishment when he finished. He looked up at Spock and grinned.

“I think that was probably pretty close, right?” Jim asked.

“Indeed,” Spock answered absently, already turned away and strolling further down the hallway.

Jim gave a short, huffing laugh. Suddenly, the floor seemed to just disappear beneath Jim, and he felt himself falling fast. Jim was silent as he fell, too shocked to yell, and within a moment Jim was entirely surrounded by darkness.

***

It was only after about a full minute of silence that Spock realized that something was wrong. Jim was never quiet, not really. He was always moving, too vibrant to stay still for too long without reason. Spock’s human gut instincts began to warn him only moments after he turned around, but they had been ignored.

When Spock finally turned around, Jim wasn't even in the room. He could not hear Jim’s voice from the room that contained the rest of the away team either. Slowly, Spock approached the last place that he had seen Jim. A glint of metal caught Spock’s eyes, and he found himself looking at a communicator.

“Lieutenant Morris,” Spock called. “Is Captain Kirk with you?”

“No, sir,” came he confused reply. Lieutenant Morris ducked under the arch into the room with Spock. “I thought he was with you.”

“He was,” Spock said, puzzled.

An unpleasant sensation was beginning to build in Spock’s gut, but he ignored it. There was no logical basis for his discomfort.

Spock flipped open his own communicator, hailing the _Enterprise_ with a, “Spock to _Enterprise_.”

“ _Enterprise_ here,” Scotty replied.

“Where is the Captain?”

There was a moment before Scotty responded, sounding confused.

“We… We cannae find ‘im, sir.”

“What do you mean, you cannot find him?”

“We- his locator isn't in rage, I suppose. I dunno how, but we cannae locate him.”

“Look again.”

“Mr. Spock,” Scotty said. “We’ve checked five times. Jim isn't there.”

“He can't just disappear,” Morris said softly, confused. “He's the _captain.”_

Spock snapped his communicator shut. When he turned to Lieutenant Morris, the young man straightened up.

“Gather the away team,” Spock instructed him. “We will be beaming up promptly.”

“Aye, sir,” Lieutenant Morris said, and hurried away.

Back on board, Spock was greeted by a thunderous McCoy.

“I can't believe you lost him,” McCoy seethed.

“He was behind me,” Spock said stiffly, “and then he was not.”

“Wow,” McCoy said dryly. “Damn good observations, science officer.”

“I believe I may have a theory as to why the captain disappeared,” Spock said, beginning a brisk walk back to the bridge.

“Oh? What, pray tell, is your theory?”

“When I was translating engravings on the walls, there was a portion that did not translate. The captain took it as a personal mission to pronounce the translation in a passable manner. It is possible that the incantation was somehow related to his disappearance.”

“You're tellin’ me that Jim time traveled like the natives used to because he was curious about an incantation?” McCoy demanded.

“It is a theory, Doctor McCoy, and nothing more.”

McCoy rolled his eyes.

“Report,” Spock said when he got to the bridge.

“About ten minutes ago, the captain’s signal disappeared,” Nyota said. “I'll send the recordings to the science station for analysis.”

“You said Jim recited that incantation,” McCoy said, having followed Spock to the bridge. “Were you using one of the new ones with recording devices, so we can listen?”

“I was,” Spock said. “The recording will be analysed alongside the captain’s biosignals.”

“Good,” McCoy said, and then, “I’ll be in sickbay if my services become necessary for any reason.”

Before he left, though, McCoy stopped right by Spock and said, quietly enough so only Spock could hear, “You’d better get him back, Spock, or I swear to God…” McCoy cut himself off with an aggravated huff, shook his head, and stalked off of the bridge.

***

Jim came back to himself slowly, and in stages. First he noticed the arms under him- oddly warm and surprisingly strong, considering his weight, but covered in a familiar, coarse material. His brain was scrambled, making identification difficult, but it seemed to be -- oddly -- Vulcan robes. Next he noticed how he felt as if he'd been hit by a shuttle, his body aching all over and his mouth dry, head pounding like the mother of all hangovers but without the alcohol. Then he noticed the oppressive heat and the smell of… roses, perhaps? It was sweet smelling, but subtle. Finally, his ears decided to join the party, and he began to pick up voices, two of them.

“...just _lying_ there, unconscious. He not burned at all -- he couldn't possibly have been there for more than five minutes.” The first voice was a woman, who sounded human. She seemed worried, which Jim figured was understandable considering she'd apparently encountered him while he'd been unconscious.

“Most unusual.” That had to be a Vulcan, with the odd word choice and the monotone. The voice was startlingly close, and the hot arms and person’s ability to carry Jim suddenly made sense. “He is awake.”

Jim decided that then was as good a time as any to open his eyes, and found himself staring at a stone ceiling, and then moved his gaze and found himself staring into a familiar face. He was clearly younger, by at least a decade or two, but the stern face of Vulcan’s Ambassador to Earth was unmistakable.

“Sarek?” Jim croaked, brows furrowing.

He was too shocked to feel very awkward about the fact that he was being carried by Spock’s father like a child. After all, not only was the _Enterprise_ very, very far from New Vulcan, but Sarek was _younger?_

Maybe reciting the incantation hadn't been the best idea.

“I do not believe that we have met before,” Sarek said, sounding incredibly stiff.

“Uh,” Jim blinked. “I think I'm from the future.”

“You think?” said the first speaker, sounding amused.

Jim turned his head and saw a human woman standing right by Sarek, with long, dark brown hair tucked into an orange head scarf and warm brown eyes that looked oddly familiar. He’d never met her before, Jim was fairly sure, but something about her was nearly unsettling in its familiarity.

“Well what year is it?” Jim asked, and nearly collapsed back onto a couch when Sarek set him down on it. He felt strangely weak, like all of his limbs were sleeping but without the tingling sensation.

“2229,” the woman said, “but only for a little while longer. The new year is nearly here, and so is our little one.” The woman placed her hands lovingly on her very pregnant stomach and looked down at it, smiling gently.

“Oh,” Jim said. “Oh, wow. I'm definitely from the future. I, uh, I come from 2265.”

“That's amazing,” the woman said, eyes lighting up. The implacable familiarity of them was so disconcerting that Jim had to look away, towards Sarek. “Why have you time traveled here, though?”

“I think I accidentally began an ancient civilization’s time travel ritual,” Jim said. “I was exploring some ruins with my first officer, and there was a portion of an engraving that didn't translate. I tried to pronounce it, and I suppose I pronounced it right. I'm not sure why I'm here, though.” He glanced around at the house he appeared to be in, everything made of stone. “Uh… where is here?”

“You are in our estate on Vulcan,” Sarek said. “My wife found you in her garden, unconscious.”

Vulcan? Jim looked out a window at scarlet sands, a city visible in the background. Yes, Vulcan. It was almost 2230, 28 years before Vulcan was to be destroyed. Jim blinked a couple of times as the reality of the situation set in. He was on a planet that didn’t exist when he was from, surrounded by billions of people who also didn't exist when he was from. None of them knew anything, had the slightest clue what the future would hold.

“Are you alright?” the woman asked, frowning. “You look like you might be ill.”

Very suddenly, a lot of things clicked into place. A human woman with Sarek, a pregnant woman who he introduced as his wife, and hadn't Spock been born in early 2230? Jim turned and really looked at the woman, looked at her eyes. They were familiar not because he'd seen them in her, but because he'd seen them in her _son_ , across chess boards and alien terrain.

“Oh,” Jim said weakly, cursing himself for not realizing sooner despite his splitting headache. “You're… You’re Amanda Grayson?”

“I am.” Amanda appeared bemused. “Did you just now realize? I suppose I'm not as well known as my husband, but our marriage did create quite some public interest in both of us, or so I believed.”

“No,” Jim said faintly. “It did. I just, uh-”

“Perhaps it is wise not to speak of the future,” Sarek interrupted.

“Yes,” Jim said, nodding. “Absolutely. I know some stuff that could… that could really alter my timeline if it became known now.”

Was he really going to just go about his journey here and return to the Enterprise without informing anyone of Vulcan’s impending doom? The impending doom of the smiling woman who had found him in her garden and would raise one of Jim’s best friends?

Yes, Jim decided, despite the sickening feeling in his gut. He was. After all, wasn't rule number one of time traveling always to never do anything that could change the future, despite how badly one might want to?

“You appear faint,” Amanda said, looking worried. “I'll go fetch some water.”

“No, my wife,” Sarek said, brushing his fingers just barely against her arm as she went to pass him. “I will retrieve a glass of water for our guest. Please, rest. You appear weary.”

Amanda gave Sarek a soft smile and brushed his cheek with the first two fingers of her right hand. She then turned and sat on the couch near Jim, her hands folded on top of her stomach. Sarek vanished silently, and Jim was left wondering just how long the naturally possessive Vulcan would leave Jim alone with his heavily pregnant wife.

Not very long at all was the answer, because Sarek was back in under a minute with a glass of chilled water that did wonders for Jim’s mouth and headache. It wasn't cold, but chilled enough to bring significant relief in the stifling heat of Vulcan.

“You wear the braids of a Starfleet captain,” Sarek stated, looking at Jim’s wrists.

“Yeah,” Jim said. “I do.”

“You also mentioned a first officer,” Sarek continued. “You seem unusually young to be a captain.”

Jim almost scoffed, but caught himself before he could offend Sarek. He nodded instead, and replied with, “Starfleet’s youngest. I broke the record.”

“How do you enjoy being captain?” Amanda inquired.

“It's a tough job sometimes,” he replied honestly, “but I love it with every fiber of my being. I wouldn't trade my position or my crew for anything.”

“An admirable attitude,” Sarek said.

A sudden wave of fatigue crashed over Jim, strong enough that his head bobbed as he fought to keep his eyes from sliding shut. A small, gentle hand settled on his shoulder, and Jim looked up to find Amanda giving him a knowing look.

“You seem very tired,” she commented.

“I don't know why,” Jim admitted. “It must be the time travel.”

“Why don't you take a nap?” Amanda suggested. “We have plenty of spare rooms, and I could use a nap myself. Carrying a child is more exhausting than it sounds.”

“If that's acceptable,” Jim said, fighting once more to keep his eyes open as irritation built.

“Of course,” Amanda said. “Sarek, why don't you show our guest to a spare room?”

Sarek nodded and stood, and Jim followed. He felt almost drunk, his balance wrong and his head still pounding. Jim had to stop and stand still for a moment before he could really walk.

“Oh,” Amanda said as she fell into step beside Jim. “We never did get your name, although you seem to know ours.”

“James,” Jim said. “Just… Just James.”

“Well, James,” Amanda said, smiling. Her eyes twinkled brightly, like Spock’s did when he was going on and on about new scientific discoveries. “Welcome to Vulcan, and we do hope that we can help you get back to where you came from.”

***

It was about a day before the crew of the _Enterprise_ was able to understand what had happened to their captain. Captain Kirk had initiated some sort of ritual involving time travel, the purpose of which was unknown. Some thorough research by Uhura and some more scientists uncovered the meaning behind the ritual, which was, in crude Standard, to allow one’s heart to truly understand the one that it desired above all else.

“So we have no clue where or when Jim is,” McCoy said, scowling. “Excellent. We don't even know who Jim ‘desires above all else,’ which would help us a whole hell of a lot.”

“I did get some information about priests sometimes following undergoers -- that's what those undertaking the ritual were called -- to where and whenever they were,” Uhura said. “Maybe we could use that method to follow the captain?”

“But who would follow zee Keptin?” Chekov asked.

“As First Officer, it is my duty to ensure the safety and continued wellbeing of Captain Kirk,” Spock said. “I should therefore be the one to follow Captain Kirk, should the necessary information be found.”

“Hang on just a moment!” McCoy protested. “I'm his best friend. If anyone’s going to have any luck getting him back, it'll be me.”

“What if the Captain is injured?” Spock asked. “It would be most logical for you to remain behind with a medical team on standby should I return with an injured captain. None of this is relevant, however, should we not be able to locate the necessary information to follow Captain Kirk.”

“I remember where the team and I found the little bits of information about following the undergoers,” Uhura said. “If you organize another team, I’m sure that we can find the necessary information.”

“We’re all so focused on following the Captain,” Sulu chimed in, “but what about returning? Nobody can go after the Captain- whether it be Doctor McCoy or Commander Spock- until we know how they're supposed to get back. They'll just end up stuck there, too.”

“Information on returning should be near information on following,” Uhura said. She frowned. “Logically. But who knows how logical these people were?”

“I will prepare two teams,” Spock said. “They will leave tomorrow morning.”

Once the bridge was settled once more, humming with the energy of a group of people working passionately, Spock sat down in the captain’s chair. The planet they had been exploring spun lazily below them on the viewscreen, a fascinating mix of purple water and reddish land masses.

Somewhere down there was the key to retrieving Captain Kirk, and Spock was determined to find it.

***

A full week had passed since Jim first arrived on Vulcan in Amanda’s garden, and they were no closer to getting Jim home. Sarek’s position and Jim’s rank held some sway, and the absolute best minds from the Vulcan Science Academy were trying to come up with a way to get Jim home.

“I've never met anyone as smart as the scholars from the VSA,” Amanda assured him, resting her hand on his arm. Her lips twisted into a smirk, eyes glowing mischievously. “Even if they're as arrogant as they are smart.”

Jim smiled back, before returning his gaze to the flowers of Amanda’s garden, but it was hesitant. He was truly nervous that he'd screwed up beyond repair, that there was no returning him to his ship. Spock couldn't help him -- he didn't even exist yet. Would Jim be doomed to spend the rest of his life out of time, taken from everyone he'd ever known? Of all of his closest friends, only Bones and Scotty were even alive, about three and about eight, respectively.

Come to think of it, Jim himself didn't exist yet, and wouldn't for another three years. For a moment, that fact didn't seem to fully register, and then everything clicked into place, a full week late. If Jim wasn't alive, if Sam was only almost one, then… then…

“My father is alive,” Jim whispered, his slow walk having come to a full stop.

“Pardon?” Amanda asked. She frowned. “James, are you okay?”

Jim sat down hard, thankful for the small stone benches scattered throughout the garden. Amanda settled down next to him, a hand on his back. It was suddenly very hard to breathe, and not just because of the lower oxygen content of Vulcan’s air.

“My father is alive,” Jim repeated, more of a gasp than proper words. His hands were shaking on his knees. He looked up at Amanda, who seemed extremely concerned. “I… I could meet my father. He isn't going to die for another three years.”

“Did he die when you were very young?” Amanda asked gently.

“The day I was born,” Jim whispered, feeling hot tears build up in his eyes. The emotions were odd, as he normally didn't get emotional when discussing his father, but this was different, somehow. “He never even got to hold me.”

A quiet sniffle came from his right, and Jim looked up to see Amanda crying quietly. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her into a hug, blinking back his tears.

“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” Jim said, voice still too thick. “I forgot about the hormones.”

“It's okay,” Amanda said into his shoulder. “I just-” She pulled back gently, and Jim let her go. “I can't imagine ever leaving my baby, willingly or not.” She cradled her stomach with aching tenderness, tears still falling. “I could never leave them to face the world alone. I know that this planet will be cruel to them.”

Jim knew this to be correct. From what he'd heard from Spock, Vulcan society had never shown him any kindness. The only true kindness he'd had on Vulcan had been the unwavering love and support of his mother.

The longing to tell Amanda, to warn her, had grown from a dismissible want to a near need. He had almost done it, two days earlier, but he'd thought hard before he'd had the opportunity. Without Amanda’s death, he wouldn’t have been able to emotionally compromise Spock and seize control of the _Enterprise_ so he could direct it to Earth to stop Nero. Without Amanda’s death, the Earth and most -- if not all -- of the primary Federation planets would probably be destroyed by 2265, not just Vulcan. So no, Jim couldn't tell her. There was a slim possibility that giving Amanda information that would save her life wouldn't change much at all, but Jim knew the odds of that were astronomical.

“Well,” Jim replied, voice sounding far closer to normal, “no matter how he's treated by Vulcan society, he’ll have you.”

Amanda’s head jerked up to look at him.

“He?”

“Uh, or she,” Jim said, but the correction was far too late and he knew it.

“You know my baby’s gender,” Amanda said, sounding far less acussing than Jim would have thought. “Do you know… do you know him? In 2265?”

For a moment, Jim considered replying with, _I’m in love with him._

“Yes,” Jim said instead. “I do.”

“Is he happy?” Amanda asked. “That's all I want to know.”

“I'd say so, yeah,” Jim said.

Amanda beamed, her eyes shining with tears, and whispered, “Good. That's all I'd ever ask for him, is happiness.” She then looked down at her stomach and laughed quietly. “I guess you'll only be a surprise to Sarek, huh? My little baby boy.”

That day’s efforts by the scientists still brought no answers, and Jim found himself sitting at a computer console at around eleven o'clock at night. Amanda and Sarek had gone to bed, and Jim had pretended to, but he had something else to do.

The only time he'd ever heard his father’s voice was in the recording of his final moments. He had been terrified, on the verge of tears, and because of this Jim didn't really know what his father’s voice truly sounded like. There were pictures, which his mother had hidden because they were too painful to look at, but no videos. He had asked his mother once if she had any videos of his father, and he'd been shut down so harshly that he'd never asked again.

One day, at the age of eight, Jim had been snooping around in his mother’s room when he found an old PADD that had once belonged to his mother. In the contacts, there was one ‘George.’ Jim had called the number, hoping to maybe hear a voicemail, _anything_ that would allow him to hear what his father sounded like when he wasn't about to die. The number had long been disconnected, though, and there was no voicemail, just a robotic voice telling him that he had called an invalid number.

A quick search showed that it was three in the morning back in Iowa, where his parents would be. If he called his father, just to hear his voicemail, it would be there. He had the opportunity to know what his father sounded like. Jim had considered the possibility of his father picking up, and therefore chosen a time when the odds of his call just going to voicemail was incredibly high- the middle of the night.

Jim’s fingers hovered over the ‘Call - Audio’ button. All he had to do was press, and he would be able to hear his father’s voice. That was it.

The console was ringing gently before he even realized he'd clicked the button. For a panicked moment, Jim considered abandoning the call before he steeled himself. It rang, and rang, and with each ring Jim grew both happier and more sick with anticipation.

“Hello?”

Jim’s heart stopped in his chest when the call was not directed to voicemail, but actually answered.

“Hello,” Jim replied before he could think better of it.

“It's three in the morning,” came the familiar and yet unfamiliar voice. “Who the hell is calling?”

“Is this George Kirk?”

“Yes. Why are you calling me?”

“So,” Jim said, not having planned for this at all. His diplomacy training wasn't for nothing, though, and he steeled himself. “I'm from the future.”

There was disgruntled mumbling through the other line, and Jim could tell that his father was about to hang up.

“No, no, don't hang up, I’m not crazy! I… I’m from the year 2265.”

“Okay,” his father said. “And who are you?”

“...Your son.”

There was a long silence, and Jim’s heart was pounding in his chest as if it was going to try to escape. He breathed deeply, trying to calm himself.

“Georgie?”

“No,” Jim said, having to force the words out. Everything he'd ever wanted to say to his father seemed stuck, suddenly. “I'm- I haven't even been conceived yet.”

“You-?” There was shuffling and the sounds of movement, most likely his father leaving the bedroom so his mother wouldn't be disturbed. “You're my son- my… second son? And you're calling from the future.”

“Yes,” Jim said, “and no. I'm actually stuck in the past right now. I'm with Starfleet too, you see, and we can get ourselves into some pretty weird shit out in the black.” The enormity and stupidity of Jim’s actions hit him all at once, and he felt something like panic begin to grow in his chest. “I'm sorry for calling and disturbing you, it's just… you're dead when I’m from. I suppose I just wanted to hear your voice. I -- I should go.”

“No,” his father said. “No, I believe you, for some reason. There's nothing wrong with wanting to talk to your father.” There was a pause. “I'm dead when you're from? How do I go?”

“I'd rather not say,” Jim said. “I don't want to disrupt the timeline too much, and I don't know what information will and what information won't.”

“I suppose that's fair,” his father said, and Jim suddenly felt almost like crying because that was _George Kirk_ , his _father_ , talking to him! “Is your mother still alive when you're from?”

“Yes,” Jim said.

“Oh, good, I always did worry that she'd go before me.” His father chuckled. “Winona’s so reckless, sometimes.”

Jim was speechless for a moment in the wake of his father’s quiet laughter. No wonder his mother had always hated it when he'd laughed -- he had the same laugh as his father. He'd never even considered that they might have the same laugh.

“She sure is,” Jim finally responded. “She’s still kicking, though.”

Still kicking on a terraforming starship in deep space, far, _far_ away from Jim and his eyes and his laugh. Jim didn’t tell his father that, though. It would probably be better for his father to believe that he had a great childhood.

“So is there anything specific you'd like to talk about, son?” There was an almost painful skip in Jim’s chest when his father called him ‘son,’ and he took a deep breath so as not to let his emotions overwhelm him.

“Not really,” Jim said, and then, floundering for a subject to keep the conversation going, “...Tell me about how you asked mom out on your first date?”

He’d like to say he'd heard the story from his mother, but he hadn't. Every time Jim asked about his father, his mother would always shut him down. Then Sam began to start shutting him down, because, ‘Geez, Jimmy, are you stupid or something? Mom hates talking about dad, all you do is hurt her when you try to bring him up. It's bad enough that you look like him.’ Jim hadn’t snapped back at Sam, said that it hurt him to not know anything about his own father except how the man had died. He'd just gone upstairs and cried quietly where nobody would see and call him weak.

“Well,” his father said, “I was fifteen, a freshman in high school, and so was Winona. She had the top GPA in the whole class, and her temper was just as unmatched as her grades. I had the second highest GPA, and she seemed friendly enough with me. I had a massive crush on her, and eventually I figured I had nothing to lose. My crush was common knowledge anyways.

“So as the spring dance rolled around, I gathered up my courage. In the hallway one morning, before class, I asked her if she would like to go to the dance with me. I felt like a mess, but I remember thinking that Winona was the prettiest thing in the whole universe, with her bright blonde hair and her vivid blue eyes and her wicked sense of humor. She looked at me and smiled and said, ‘Well damn, I feel like I've been waiting for ages, already. Of course!’”

Jim could feel tears welling in his eyes, unbidden. He tried to scrub them away and mask his hitching breaths.

“That story never gets old,” Jim lied.

“I told it a lot, huh?”

“Every chance you got.”

“Say, son, you said you were with Starfleet- what do you do in the ‘Fleet?”

“I…” Jim debated internally about telling the truth, but eventually decided to lie as little as possible. “I'm a captain. I've got my own ship, and crew, and everything.”

“A captain!” His father sounded amazed. “Oh, that's brilliant! ...Did I live to see you become captain?”

_In another universe, but not this one._

“No.”

There was a long pause and a sigh from the other line, before, “Georgie’s awake- I can hear him walking around upstairs. I should go before he wakes Winona.”

“Yeah,” Jim said, blinking back sudden tears and refraining from begging his father not to go. “Yeah, of course.”

“Maybe we could talk again, if you'd like.”

“I don't think so,” Jim said, although the words were hard to push past the lump in his throat. “I- The more we talk, the greater the risk of me accidentally giving something away that could drastically change the future.”

“I suppose that's fair. Well, goodbye, son. Tell everyone I say hi when you get back, yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Jim went to hit the ‘end call’ button, but paused when his father spoke again.

“And son?”

“Yeah, dad?” Jim fought to keep his voice from cracking on the word ‘dad,’ and he wasn't too sure that he was successful.

“I don't know you- not yet- but you're a good enough officer and of good enough character to make it to the position of captain, and… I couldn't be prouder, son.”

“Thank you,” Jim rasped.

“Goodnight, son.”

“Goodnight, dad.”

Jim let out a sob he'd been keeping in the moment the call disconnected and sat back in the chair, hand over his mouth as he cried a silently as he could. After perhaps a minute of silent sobbing, a small hand settled on his shoulder. Jim tensed up and hastily scrubbed away his tears before turning around. He found Amanda standing behind him, her eyes shining with tears in the light from the console.

“I know I probably shouldn't have done that,” Jim managed to say, and took a shaky breath. “But I… I needed to hear what he sounded like when he wasn't scared out of his mind. When he wasn't about to die.”

“I'm not going to judge you,” Amanda said quietly. “I probably would've done the same in your position.” She gestured to the door with her head, her hair out of a scarf and spilling over her shoulders. “Come on, you'll be exhausted tomorrow if you don't get some sleep.”

“What… What were you doing awake?” Jim asked her in a low voice as they made their way through the sprawling estate, arms linked.

Amanda frowned and said, “Being so heavily pregnant, I have to use the restroom very often. I just so happened to see you leave your room, and followed you.” She looked abashed for a moment. “I admit, I have always been too curious for my own good. I should have left as soon as I realized who you were calling, and I’m sorry.”

“It's okay,” Jim said, and found that he meant it. He wasn't upset with her, despite her silent intrusion on an intensely private thing. It wasn’t hard to trust Amanda, even with something like his father.

When they reached Jim’s temporary room, Amanda smiled softly and let go of his arm. Even though the house was hot, despite climate control, Amanda’s presence was comforting, as was the grip she had had on Jim’s arm. It was a loss when she stepped away.

“Goodnight, James,” Amanda said quietly. She then smiled. “I'll see you tomorrow, but only for a little while- the baby is going to come tomorrow.”

Jim was caught off guard for a moment before he recalled that the date was indeed 2230.05, one day before Spock’s birthday. He smiled back at Amanda.

“Goodnight, Amanda. I'll see you and your baby tomorrow, then.”

“My baby boy,” Amanda whispered lovingly.

“Yeah,” Jim said, his own voice a mere whisper and his eyes fixed on her stomach. “Yeah, your baby boy.”

***

The next day, the away team found information on how to follow an undergoer. They did not find any information, however, on how to return after following an undergoer. The crew’s disappointment was obvious, even to Spock.

“I cannot pursue the captain until information that would allow me to return has been found,” Spock said.

“Will we continue searching tomorrow?” Sulu asked. “How much of the temple will we scour for that information?”

“Zee whole thing, if we haff too,” Chekov declared. “We are going to get zee Keptin back.”

“I won't stop until I find what we need to get him back,” Uhura said.

“Me neither,” Sulu agreed. He looked at Spock. “Maybe you should organize quite a few landing parties for tomorrow, sir.”

“Perhaps I should,” Spock replied.

***

Jim didn't see Amanda the next day until after she had given birth. Everything had gone as well as it could have, and several hours after Spock was brought into the universe, Amanda was well enough to receive visitors. Sarek was the first visitor, obviously, and when he was called away by ambassadorial duties, Jim figured that then was as good a time as any to visit Amanda and baby Spock.

“Hello,” Jim said quietly as he entered the room that Amanda was in. It wasn't her bedroom, but another guest room riddled with medical devices monitoring Amanda’s health, as well as the health of infant Spock. Windows covered by thin drapes let in golden light that illuminated the room and its occupants well.

“Oh, James.” Amanda beamed. “Do come in. He's sleeping right now.”

James walked slowly to Amanda’s bedside, and his gaze landed on the bundle in Amanda’s arms. A beige swaddle was wrapped around an infant, which appeared human in every way except for the pointed ears, so fragile in appearance, and the sloping eyebrows.

“We named him Spock,” Amanda whispered, careful not to wake the baby in her arms. “But I suspect you already knew that.”

James nodded, unable to speak, and looked down at Spock. It was almost too weird to comprehend. The tiny thing bundled up and cradled by Amanda, the sleeping infant with the pointed ears, it was _Spock_. Spock, his first officer and one of his best friends and the man he was hopelessly in love with.

“Would you like to hold him?”

Jim just nodded again, and when Amanda transferred Spock to Jim’s arms, he handled him with the utmost care. Cradled in Jim’s arms, Spock seemed so small, but was heavier than he expected. With a hand that shook for reasons Jim couldn't identify, Jim reached up and traced Spock’s eyebrows and the curve of his ears, stroked his cheeks, petted the downy soft hair on his tender skull. Jim thought he needed to sit down for a moment, and settled for leaning somewhat against the side of Amanda’s bed.

“You know him very well, don't you?” Amanda inquired softly.

“Very well,” Jim agreed, voice rough. He looked up at Amanda and smiled. “I could tell you how, but I'm not sure how wise that would be.”

“No,” Amanda said. “Don't do anything that might not be wise.”

Jim looked back down at Spock, his thumb running over Spock’s green cheek. Little Spock blinked open soft brown eyes, so like his mother’s, and stared directly into Jim’s. His mouth opened slightly, bow lips an adorable green.

“He's one of my best friends,” Jim whispered, not looking up from Spock’s face. “I trust him with my life, and I think he trusts me with his.”

“Good,” Amanda said. “I'm glad that Spock will find a friend like that.”

“It'll take a while,” Jim admitted. “But he will.”

Jim pressed a soft kiss to Spock’s forehead before handing him back to Amanda, who smiled with tears in her eyes. She resumes her previous position, cradling him in her arms and gazing down at him adoringly.

“I’ll leave you be,” Jim said.

Amanda hummed but didn't reply as Jim left the room.

Ten minutes later, Jim found himself in Amanda’s garden. There were roses surrounded by native cacti, some other hardy Terran flowers sprinkled throughout the Vulcan greenery. Spock was quite like the garden, Jim reflected. Part Vulcan and part Human, but rooted on Vulcan. Jim let his lips twitch into a smile at an imagined Spock’s response to such an accusation.

His thoughts seemed entirely focused on Spock for the time that Jim spent in the garden. His Spock and infant Spock alike occupied his mind, and Jim found himself growing increasingly melancholy. Despite the sunscreen he’d put on, Jim felt himself begin to burn rather quickly. He sighed and stood, feeling sticky and gross.

Before Jim could make it to his room, he encountered Sarek. The Vulcan Ambassador was scarier than Jim remembered him being in the future, but he supposed that made sense. It was only after Vulcan’s destruction and Amanda’s death that Sarek had realized how badly he had erred in parenting, before he had become less stern and adhered to Surak’s tenants just a little less strictly. This was not the man that Jim knew, the man that was trying to mend rifts in his relationship with his son. This was a man who would disown his own son for choosing to attend Starfleet.

“Sarek,” Jim greeted. “How are you?”

“I am well,” Sarek replied, “and you?”

“I could be better,” Jim said, grinning to hide the fear he truly felt that maybe his crew wouldn't be able to rescue him, this time. “I could be home.”

“The top scientific minds on Vulcan are working on the matter,” Sarek said, as if that was an assurance. Jim supposed to Sarek it would be.

However, the ‘top scientific minds’ would only care for so long. What would happen if they didn't find a way to get Jim back home before their interest waned or was drawn to a newer or more important matter? Would Jim be stuck, destined to both know and not know his closest friends, just like the elder Spock? Would he become ‘the elder Jim?’ The thought was nearly enough to make him shudder.

Jim vowed to himself that if -- no, _when_ \-- he got back to the _Enterprise_ that he wouldn't beat around the bush anymore when it came it his feelings. He would confess his feelings to Spock; would tell Bones how much he appreciated having the other man in his life.

“Yeah,” Jim replied.

“You appear highly anxious. Explain.”

“What if they can't find a way to get me back? My situation can only take precedence for so long.” He felt stupid for confessing such thoughts to Sarek- he probably thought that Jim’s worries were nothing more than him being illogically human.

“I am uncertain.” Sarek seemed to actually consider his dilemma. “Perhaps you could register with Starfleet once more- it seems unlikely that they would make you go through the Academy twice.”

“I don't think I'd want to be Captain if it's not with my crew,” Jim said, feeling a little childish but knowing that he spoke the truth.

“You need not necessarily become a captain,” Sarek said.

“I suppose not,” Jim murmured. “But it's what I love more than anything.” He glared at the wall for a second before sighing and turning back to Sarek with a tight-lipped smile. “Let’s just hope it doesn't come to that. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m in need of a shower.”

***

“Nothing, sir.”

“My team couldn't find anything about returning, just some more about following.”

“We couldn't find a goddamn thing- pardon my language, sir.”

“I've got as much to report as all of the other groups, sir.”

“We didn't find anything either.”

Nyota remained behind when Spock dismissed the leaders of each group dispatched to search the temple. He sat straight-backed and stern-faced, but he knew that Nyota would not be fooled.

“I know you're worried,” Nyota said softly. “We all are.” She placed a hand on his shoulder, but Spock's was already so tense that she could not register his discomfort with the touch. “We'll find him, Spock. We will.”

“We must,” Spock replied, “and therefore we will.” He turned to gaze at Nyota, who removed her hand. “I refuse to accept the possibility that we will not be able to retrieve Captain Kirk.”

“Me too, Spock.” Nyota frowned, just the slightest bit. “We’re here if you need us, Spock. Remember that.”

Then she was gone, and Spock was left in Jim’s briefing room, alone.

***

Jim sat in Amanda’s kitchen -- and as much as the estate was both her and Sarek’s, some parts of the estate were most definitely Amanda’s -- holding a five month old Spock in his lap. Spock was a stellar baby, not too noisy and not too fussy. He was currently sitting with one chubby hand stuffed in his mouth, the other wrapped quite firmly in the loose sleeve of Jim’s lightweight shirt.

“They're getting desperate,” Jim said offhandedly, bouncing his leg a little bit. Spock seemed to enjoy when he did that. “The scientists as the VSA have asked me to come in and help them in any way I can.”

Amanda stalled in her cutting up of some Vulcan vegetables, which Jim had come to really like over the almost six months he'd been on Vulcan. Her gaze was heavy with sympathy, mouth pursed.

“They'll get you home eventually,” she said, the message that both her and Sarek had repeated countless times sounding hollow.

“And if they don't?” Jim asked quietly.

It was the first time he'd voiced his fears since the conversation with Sarek on the day of Spock’s birth, but the terror hadn't dulled any. If anything, his fear had increased and would continued to increase the longer the VSA couldn't find any results.

“I don't know,” Amanda murmured. She set the knife down and turned around, leaning against the counter. “As much as I want to be confident, I don't know.”

They both fell silent, Jim’s leg bouncing absently. A small snuffling sound brought both of their attentions to Spock, who was staring up at Jim with big, teary eyes. As Jim watched, Spock’s face crumpled and he began to cry, reaching up at Jim’s face with small, chubby hands.

“Oh, no, little gem,” Jim said, frowning himself. “No, it's okay. It is. Please don't cry.”

Spock continued to cry, and Jim sighed and lifted him up to cradle him against Jim’s chest. Jim rubbed his back, Spock’s tiny legs strong enough to lock and support his weight as he leaned against Jim. It took a while, but Jim eventually managed to calm Spock down.

“He's empathetic, as well as telepathic, or so the doctors say.”

“I guess so,” Jim said, continuing to rub Spock’s back despite the fact that he'd quieted down. “He picked up on my distress.” Jim looked up at Amanda regretfully. “Sorry.”

“It's not your fault that you're stuck here,” Amanda said.

“But it is,” Jim replied. “S- My first officer told me not to recite the stuff that didn't translate and I didn't listen to him. I should have, but I didn't, and now-” He cut himself off with an aggravated huff. “I should have listened to him,” he continued, quieter.

“Maybe,” Amanda conceded. She gave him a scrutinizing look before continuing with, “You've never time traveled before, have you?”

“No.”

“It's obvious,” Amanda said, smiling. “I don't want to be too harsh, but you're not exactly the best at keeping the future a total secret.”

“I try,” Jim said, grinning, “but it's not like they teach time travel etiquette at the Academy.”

“Spock is your first officer, isn't he?” Amanda asked quietly after a long silence.

Jim looked up at her, surprised by her intuition, but didn't give her a verbal yes or no answer. She laughed quietly, but her body language quickly became more somber as she stared at her son.

“I don't want to be too forward,” she began, “but I’m dead when you're from, aren't I?”

“Yeah,” Jim whispered. “How did you know?”

“It's all in the way you look at me sometimes,” Amanda said. “Like when you first realized who I was, you looked a little like you might pass out. Sometimes, when you think I'm not looking or don't notice, you look at me so sadly- almost desperately, really- like you're trying to solve some complex moral dilemma that you can't ask for help with.” She fixed him with a piercing look. “I think I'd probably look the same way if I was trying to decide whether or not to tell a dead person how to save their life.”

“I almost have, three times already,” Jim confessed. “I keep trying to figure out if I could save your life without massively screwing up the future, but…” He floundered helplessly for words, and then looked up at Amanda with an expression that he was sure communicated the devastation he felt. “I always end up with the same results. If you live, billions die.”

“Well,” Amanda murmured, gaze and mind clearly distant. “I suppose I can't be too upset about dying if it has that positive of an impact.”

Jim found his eyes welling up with tears, and Amanda abandoned her position by the counter to wrap both Jim and her young son in a hug. Her grip was warm, motherly. Sisterly, perhaps, because Jim and Amanda were nearly the same age, and wasn't that weird?

“I'm sorry,” Jim whispered into her shoulder. “I'm so, so sorry. You don't deserve what will happen, and neither does Spock.”

“It's okay,” Amanda whispered back. “It's okay, James.” She pulled away and smiled gently, no trace of tears in her eyes. “How long do I have?”

“Why do you want to know?” Jim asked. “Wouldn't that make it worse?”

“Maybe,” Amanda said, shrugging. “But I want to know how much time I have to love my son with everything in me, so I can ensure that he has enough memories of my love to make it in the universe no matter how much bigotry he faces.”

Jim once more found himself taken aback by Amanda. Her personal strength was quiet but as solid as tritanium, and her love for her son was beautifully obvious. Truly, Jim thought, Spock was lucky to have such love from his mother, even if the rest of his home planet hated him.

“You're going to die in 2258,” Jim finally admitted, voice quiet. “I really don't think I should tell you any more than that.”

“2258?” Amanda said, and for some reason she began to _laugh_. “Oh, thank goodness. I was worried that it would be next year, or something. Twenty-eight years.” She gently took a sleeping Spock from Jim and beamed down at him. “That's plenty of time to let him know that I love him more than anything.”

Jim could feel hot tears stinging his eyes, and was unsure if they were from relief that Amanda had taken the news well or if they were from a longing for parental love like the kind that Spock had.

“I'll go finish cutting up the vegetables,” Jim said once he could talk again. “You take some time to just be with Spock. Twenty-eight years will pass faster than you know.”

“Yes,” Amanda said absently, stroking Spock’s fluffy hair. “I'm sure they will.”

When dinner had been prepared and eaten by Jim and Amanda- Spock had his own baby food, and Sarek was gone for a few more weeks on some off-planet ambassadorial business- they sat in Amanda’s garden as the sun set and the air temperature cooled.

“I have so many questions about the future,” Amanda said, sighing, “but I know better than to ask them.”

Spock was asleep in his mother’s arms, a gentle breeze moving the curls springing up as his hair grew. Jim thought that they were absolutely adorable, and couldn't help but wonder if Spock straightened his hair or if he eventually grew out of it. Not that he was currently able to ask, anyways.

“Amanda?”

“Yes, James?”

The question rolled off of his tongue before he could think about it, before he could decide not to speak.

“What's it like, being bonded to a Vulcan?”

“It's… It’s indescribable.” Amanda looked at him, eyes shining with joy. “It's not something I regret at all, though. It's a truly amazing thing.”

Jim nodded and returned to looking at the roses, suddenly feeling awkward and transparent. Amanda nudged him with her foot to draw his attention back to her before she spoke.

“Spock is more than one of your best friends, isn't he?”

Jim swallowed and nodded, before saying, “He doesn't know how I feel, but-” He struggled for a moment over the words. “I've loved him for quite a while.”

“We’re going to get you back,” Amanda said, sounding more confident than she had in a month, at least. “And then you're going to confess your feelings to him, because,” Amanda grinned somewhat sadly, “I won't be around to give him any love.”

“That's the first thing I’m going to do,” Jim agreed. “I decided that the day he was born, funny enough.” He laughed, just a little. “I was so worried about him rejecting me, about ruining our friendship, that I never told him. Now that all of this has happened, though, I'm kicking myself for letting fear stop me.”

“Fear of abandonment is a powerful thing,” Amanda said.

Jim looked down at Spock and traced his eyebrow with a single gentle finger, his lips twitching into a mournful smile.

“It sure is,” he said quietly, and shook his head. “Geez, it sure is.”

***

“The lack of results is unacceptable,” Spock said stiffly. He was sitting in his quarters, and Nyota was with him.

“Everyone is trying as hard as they can,” Nyota said imploringly. “You can't blame anyone for not finding the information we need.”

Spock said nothing, just stared at the half-finished chess game that he had left on the small coffee table in his quarters. Echoes of Jim’s laughter rang in Spock’s ears, the smile that Jim had borne as he made his last move hanging behind Spock’s eyelids.

“Spock,” Nyota said, her tone soft. “I'm here for you, if you want to talk.”

“I find myself regretful,” Spock murmured, and he could tell that Nyota was straining to hear him but did not raise his voice. “I recently came to terms with the fact that I am in love with Jim, but I found myself hesitant to inform him of my feelings for fear of a lack of reciprocation. Now, though, he is gone, and I do not know if I will ever see him again and have the opportunity to confess my affections.”

“We’ll get him back,” Nyota whispered, and her voice held a familiar steel that reminded Spock of his mother. “I know we will.”

“Your confidence is most admirable,” Spock said, looking up at her. “Perhaps a great many people, myself included, could do with following your example.”

“Goodnight, Spock,” Nyota said, her eyes shining with pure, platonic affection.

“Goodnight, Nyota.”

Spock didn't move for a long time after Nyota left, but finally stood and moved around his quarters. He found himself standing in front of his desk, hand on the drawer that held a few precious moments of his mother and Vulcan-that-was. He eventually opened it, and stared down at the contents. There were a few trinkets and photos, sent by his mother in what his mother called ‘care packages’ during his time at the Academy and even afterwards, but that was all.

Except… Except it wasn't.

There was a new item, one that Spock was and somehow wasn't familiar with. A small photo with a frame of faux silver lay on top of everything, and Spock lifted it gently to examine it. It was of him as an infant, cradled in the arms of an unknown person. It wasn't a particularly good photo, and Spock had always wondered why his mother had sent him that photo- but no, his mother never sent him this photo because it was new. Spock let his eyes scan over the photo, examining every little detail. There was nothing out of the ordinary, but Spock knew that there was, if only he looked hard enough.

And suddenly, Spock saw that the hands that were holding him were male, but not Vulcan. By the time he was born, none of his mother’s close living family members were male. Who, then, was the Human man holding him? Why did Spock both remember and not remember this photo?

Spock sat down in his desk chair, allowing his face to morph into a Human frown as he considered the photo. Something deep within Spock knew, somehow, that this photo was important. After so long around Humans, Spock had begun to not entirely discount intuition, and he understood then the urge that drove Humans to distraction and defiance of direct orders. Spock took a deep breath and returned once more to studying the photo in front of him, certain that something within the photo would help to retrieve Jim.

***

The frequency with which Jim worked with scientists from the VSA had increased from three days a way to seven. Each day was harder than the last as both Jim and the Vulcans who he worked with lost hope. By the time Jim had been on Vulcan nearing eight months, he was beginning to suffer from nightmares where he never returned to his own time and grew old and gray while watching a younger him and a younger Spock explore the universe.

Jim could tell that Sarek was growing irritated with Jim’s continued presence, but it wasn't like Jim had anywhere else to go, and he and Amanda had grown close. The day that the VSA announced that Jim’s project had three more months before they shut it down due to ‘lack of necessity,’ Jim could read the secret relief in Sarek’s face and the quiet fear in Amanda’s.

“It's okay,” Jim said, giving Amanda a reassuring smile when in reality he was terrified. “We’ll figure out a way to get me back before then. We will.”

Spock began to fuss and reached out to Jim one with his free hand. The other was occupied with a vegetable that he had been happily munching on for a few minutes previous. Jim sighed and picked Spock up, balancing him on a hip and stroking his mass of curls.

“Oh, I’m sorry, little gem,” he cooed. “It's okay, Spockling, I’m just a little worried.”

“Kroykah,” Spock said. Stop. As if it was that simple.

“I wish I could, little buddy,” Jim said, smiling.

As much as it was odd, Jim found that holding Spock did actually help to calm him down when he was upset. Maybe it was something about Spock’s eyes, so round and innocent, still. Maybe it was the way that Spock’s hair curled just so and was velvet soft, or the way that Spock seemed to _adore_ Jim, almost as much as either of his parents. That had been shocking and awkward to realize, sure, but it actually made Jim feel pretty honored.

“Let me put Spock down for bed,” Amanda said gently, taking Spock from Jim’s arms.

When Amanda returned, she found Jim sitting at the dining table, staring at nothing. She sat in front of him, drawing his attention to her, and tipped her head in a way that was so like Spock that it made Jim ache.

“You've got to be terrified,” Amanda said.

“I am,” Jim confessed.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I hate this whole thing,” Jim whispered. “I should've-” He took a deep, shaky breath. “I should've just listened to Spock when he told me in his own polite way to shut up.”

Amanda made a sympathetic humming noise but didn't talk, allowing Jim to continue to vent his fears.

“I- I’ve got no ship, no crew, nothing. I don't even remember what my best friends look like, not really. I can't remember the exact color of Bones’ eyes or the number of wrinkles he gets between his eyebrows when he's absolutely furious. I can't remember what Spock looks like when he gets all huffy when I almost die on away missions. I can't remember exactly what Uhura’s little smirk looks like when she rolls her eyes when I flirt with her for old times’ sake. I can't remember how Chekov’s whole face lights up when he gets really enthusiastic about something.” Jim’s voice cracked, and he took several long seconds to bring himself back under control. “I can't remember,” he whispered, feeling defeated.

“James,” Amanda said, putting a hand on his forearm. Jim was looking down at his clasped hands, blurry through the tears in his eyes. “I can't promise that you’ll get all of that back. Not anymore. But I can assure you that I’ll be here for you.”

“Thank you,” Jim said, voice scratchy. “I can't tell you how much that means to me.”

“You don't have to.”

They sat in silence for a while, Amanda’s hand warm on his arm. Jim finally straightened up and rubbed at his damp eyes.

“Three months,” he said, voice steady and strong once more. He glanced out the windows of the dining room and out at the scarlet desert beyond, illuminated by the setting sun. “I still have three months before I'm stuck here for good.”

“You don't think your crew is still looking for you? That they could still possibly rescue you?”

“It's been eight months,” Jim said, shaking his head. “They'd be given one week maximum before Starfleet ordered them to take on a new mission, with Spock as Captain instead of Acting Captain unless they could provide evidence of investigative success, which I doubt they'd find and would only push the deadline out another week.” Jim laughed, short and almost bitter. “No, they're not looking. Not anymore.”

“Time could be distorted,” Amanda suggested. “It could seem like months here, but only be minutes there.”

Jim shook his head and said, “I can't -- I can't deal with false hope.” He stared at the table for a few seconds before sighing heavily. “I've changed so much,” he said softly, wondrously. “At one point, I would've jumped at false hope, grasped at straws until there was absolutely nothing left.”

“And now?”

“I suppose I’ve matured,” Jim murmured.

Amanda stood and set a gentle hand on his shoulder for a moment before leaving with a quiet, “Goodnight, James.”

“Goodnight, Amanda,” Jim said, but the door had already shut behind her.

***

“Uh, Commander, shouldn't you be asleep?” queried the gamma shift communications officer.

“I believe I have located Captain Kirk,” Spock stated, ignoring the young woman entirely. “Summon the senior crew to the captain’s ready room.”

As predicted, there was much grumbling from the senior staff before Spock informed them of the purpose for the meeting. It was as if a switch had been flipped- every one of them went from disgruntled and sleepy to eager and wide awake within a moment.

“Well where’s the picture?” McCoy demanded. “You can't just drop this bombshell on us and not show us the damn picture.”

Spock resisted a sigh as he placed the photo on the table, where it was scooped up and passed around. The cooing over his infant self was thankfully kept to a minimum, but there was agreement all around that the hands holding Spock did indeed highly resemble those of Captain Kirk.

“So he's in 2230, on Vulcan?” McCoy asked.

“Affirmative.”

Wisely, nobody pointed out that if Jim was on Vulcan, holding Spock in a photo, then it was Spock who Jim’s heart desired above all else. The understanding of that only increased Spock’s need to get Jim back, so Spock could tell him that his feelings were reciprocated.

“Well, with photo evidence of Jim being in the past and not dead, we can petition Starfleet for extra time to find a way to return after following him,” Sulu said.

“We’ll have the time to cover the full extent of the temple with the extension,” Nyota said. “There's no way we won't find the necessary information, if it's in the temple.”

“It damn well should be,” McCoy said, scowling.

“We will retrieve Captain Kirk,” Spock vowed, and when he met Nyota’s eyes, they were glowing.

***

The day that the program shut down, Jim found himself fighting tears in the laboratory. He knew that crying would only cement the disdain towards him held by the Vulcans he'd been working with, but he was stuck, now.

When he returned to Sarek and Amanda’s estate, Amanda took one look at him and pulled him into a hug. Jim’s breath caught, and the next thing he knew he was sobbing into Amanda’s shoulders, arms wrapped tight around her.

“I'm sorry,” she murmured into his ear. “I'm so sorry, James.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Jim whispered helplessly.

“I don't know,” Amanda replied. “Maybe you could go back to Starfleet. It wouldn't be the same, but- maybe it would be similar enough.”

“I should've listened to Spock,” Jim said, voice cracking. “I was so _stupid_ , why couldn't I just _listen?”_

“You're not stupid,” Amanda chastised him gently. “You just made a mistake.”

“A mistake that totally screwed up my entire life.” James took a step back and rubbed harshly at eyes. “I mean, I have _nothing_. I don't even really have a place to stay because I don't have a reason to be on Vulcan anymore- and don't look at me like that, you know as well as I do that Sarek wants me gone.”

“Well Sarek isn't here right now,” Amanda said, “so you've got a home for at least another week.” Her eyes softened and she smiled gently at him. “Come on. You can help me with dinner, or with calming Spock down if he throws a fit.”

Jim found his eyes filling with tears again, but tears of gratitude this time.

“Thank you,” he said. “I- I’ll be gone by the time Sarek gets back, probably on my way to San Francisco, but thank you.”

Jim followed Amanda to the kitchen, where they cut vegetables in silence until Jim spoke again, some minutes later.

“...Amanda?”

“Yes, James?”

“You...” He stopped and set down his knife, unsure of how to phrase his next words. “I can't thank you enough for helping to take care of me over these past months. For being a companion in a world that hates me a lot more right now than it does in the future.” He looked up at Amanda, who had stopped her own cutting and was looking right back at him. “You've kind of become like a sister to me,” he admitted.

“That's funny,” Amanda said, smiling. “You've become almost like a brother to me.”

Jim let out a short, relieved laugh and moved closer to Amanda to wrap her in a one-armed hug.

“I suppose I'll have to stay in touch, then, huh?”

“Yes, I suppose you will.”

“And… And I suppose Starfleet could use me, even if they probably won't reinstate my position as captain of anything anytime soon.”

“I suppose they could.”

“You're making this a lot easier than it would have been without you,” Jim said.

Considering he'd lost everything- his whole life, every possession he owned- he felt remarkably okay. Everything would be different now, vastly different, and he knew that he would never be the same, never be quite right in the way that Selek had always seemed so odd compared to his peers. Despite all that, Jim felt… not as devastated as he thought he would feel.

“I'm glad I could help,” Amanda said, leaning into him.

“Yeah,” Jim said quietly, resting his cheek on the top of her head. “Me too.”

***

Eleven days after Jim’s disappearance, three days before the extended deadline, the Enterprise crew was victorious.

“We found it, we found it!” came the triumphant cry of an away team leader who had just burst onto the bridge.

“You found information detailing the process of returning after following an undergoer?” Spock inquired, careful not to show his hidden eagerness and hope. The general mood of the entire bridge seemed to match Spock’s own emotions, he noted absently.

“Yes!” The team leader rushed over to Spock, showing him a PADD. “You see, once you follow the undergoer and find them, you have to link your arm with theirs and say this right here, and then you return to the location where the undergoer first initiated the ritual.”

“Lieutenant Uhura, confirm this information.”

There were a few seconds before a breathless, “Yes, Spock, that's it! We can get Kirk back!”

“In the matter of time travel, it is prudent to collect Captain Kirk. He has already altered our time, even if only slightly,” Spock said, standing.

“You're going to have to memorize the phrase to return,” Nyota said. “We can't go right away.”

“I have an eidetic memory. Memorization is unnecessary.”

The urgency that Spock felt was nearly enough to be physical. Perhaps this is what Humans referenced when they said that they were ‘itching’ to do something.

“Just look at it, Spock,” Nyota said, her face a frown of concern. “We can't risk you getting stuck, too.”

Spock didn't outwardly display his irritation, but sighed internally and held out his hand for the PADD. For several moments, Spock read and re-read the phrase, ensuring that it was committed to memory.

“The necessary phrase has been memorized,” Spock said, handing the PADD back. “Lieutenant Sulu, you have the comm until Lieutenant-Commander Scott arrives on the bridge. Lieutenant Uhura, please inform Doctor McCoy of my impending departure and have him and a medical team report to the transporter room and then to the temple, should a medical team be necessary.”

“Aye sir,” Sulu said.

“Yes sir,” Nyota replied.

The turbolift seemed to take an eternity to arrive on the correct deck, and by the time Spock arrived in the transporter room- he would beam down and follow Jim in the location that Jim had disappeared- the medical team was already there, predictably lead by Doctor McCoy.

“I presume you'll be the one following him?” McCoy asked. It was obvious to Spock that McCoy’s irritation was fake, and that he was truly concerned and hopeful, but Spock didn't say anything about it.

“Indeed.”

The temple was just as Spock remembered it, vines just beyond the stained glass windows swaying in a gentle breeze. Sunlight streamed in, casting dazzling shapes upon the far wall, hut Spock gave no mind to the patterns of light.

“We’ll be here,” McCoy promised. “Just get him back.”

Spock, staring at the area where Jim had been before he’d disappeared, recited the necessary incantation. Suddenly, the floor seemed to vanish below Spock, and he plunged in to a dark oblivion.

When Spock came back to consciousness, he found himself on his back, the familiar sky above him shrouded by native Vulcan bushes. He felt rather beat up, and pushed himself gingerly to his feet. For a moment, Spock could do no more than look around.

He had known, rationally, that Jim was on Vulcan. He could not prepare himself for the long-missed sight of his home planet, however, especially not the view from the front porch of his family’s estate. It was as if Spock was dreaming, but the warm air that gusted over him was no dream. An ache began and built in Spock’s chest, the ache of something lost.

The wind carried with it faint voices through open windows, and one of them was unmistakably Jim. Spock’s heart felt as if it had skipped a beat in his side at the sound. He turned and ascended the stairs, his legs feeling oddly heavy, and rang the doorbell. All sounds ceased abruptly.

Finally, the door swung open to reveal Jim with a bag slung over his shoulder, and the sight of him was immeasurably relieving. His skin was tanned darkly, his hair brighter than would be expected after eleven days on Vulcan. Among all of that, his eyes still stood out more than anything, the spark in them dulled but unmistakable. It was difficult to tell, but Spock believed that Jim paled when he placed a hand against the doorframe and swayed some.

“Spock?” Jim whispered. His voice cracked, and Spock noticed his blue eyes begin to shine with what appeared to be tears.

“Captain,” Spock said. “I do believe this is the appropriate time to say ‘I told you so,’ correct?”

Jim began to laugh wetly, and Spock suddenly found himself smothered in an emotional Human. The emotions that Spock found himself assaulted by were incredibly intense, a mixture of relief and something that Spock believed was love. When Jim pulled away, Spock found his face trapped between Jim’s hands, but he didn't mind the physical contact at all, not when Jim was so happy.

“So,” Jim began, “I promised someone I’d tell you this when I got back, but I just can't wait, even if you don't feel the same -- I'm so sorry, I'm rambling, but what I meant to say is --” Jim took a deep breath before continuing, and Spock could feel muted terror coming through their skin contact. “I'm in love with you. And I have been for a while -- since before Khan, actually. And I know you probably don't feel the same way and that -- that's fine, I just needed you to know, it won't affect our friendship at all, I promise you --”

“Jim,” Spock began, cutting him off. “Your feelings are reciprocated.”

“They --?” Jim stared at him, almost in incomprehension. “They are?”

“Indeed.”

“Can… Can I kiss you? The human way?”

“You may.”

Jim laughed again, certainly the most beautiful sound that Spock had ever heard, and pressed a solid kiss to his lips. Spock brought his hands up to rest them on Jim’s shoulders as he was kissed heartily. Jim tasted like plomeek soup and mint toothpaste, as well as his own natural flavors, and Spock found that it was absolutely perfect.

“How could you possibly have gotten permission from Starfleet to keep looking for me after so long?” Jim asked breathlessly. “Not that I'm not happy, because I'm ecstatic, I thought I was going to have to sign up for Starfleet all over again and be stuck as an Ensign for _years_ , but-”

“You were only gone for eleven days,” Spock said, tipping his head quizzically.

“Days?” Jim looked genuinely shocked, and had forgotten to let go of Spock’s face, not that he was complaining. “No, it's -- for me, it’s been eleven _months.”_ Jim looked over his shoulder at someone that Spock couldn't see and said, while laughing, “Amanda, you were right!”

Oh.

Oh, yes. It was 2230, which would mean that his mother would still be alive. Which would mean that just beyond the door…

His mother stepped into view and smiled softly, her eyes shining with tears that Spock knew weren't necessarily from sadness.

“Hello, Spock.”

“Mother,” Spock said, voice suddenly hoarse.

Jim stepped to the side and allowed Spock to beeline straight for his mother. His hands fluttered by her shoulders, gaze skipping up and down because she was _alive_ , alive and healthy and smiling so softly at Spock that it hurt.

His mother finally stood on her toes to pull him into a hug, and Spock shook but did not cry and he embraced her back, basking in the familiar smell of her perfume. Her hands were as soft as he remembered, her voice just as soothing when she murmured in his ear. When his mother pulled back, Spock did not stop her. When she smiled and cupped his face in her hands, Spock did not stop her either.

“What a handsome young man you’ll grow up to be,” his mother whispered, beaming. “James has told me some about you, as much as he safely can. The first officer of Starfleet’s flagship?” His mother’s eyes gleamed in the way the did when she was immeasurably happy and close to tears. “I'm so proud of you, Spock.”

Spock brought his hands up to cover his mother’s, unable to speak. All he could do was look, hoping to preserve her image in memory forever.

“And,” his mother continued, her tone slightly mischievous. “I must say, I highly approve of your choice of a prospective partner.”

Spock fought a blush, and he could tell by the sounds of shuffling that Jim had been slightly embarrassed, too.

“Amanda,” Jim complained good-naturedly.

“How long can you stay?” Amanda asked, ignoring Jim completely.

“I cannot stay for long,” Spock replied, although the words hurt to say.

Amanda smiled, both soft and sad, and said, “Well, why don't you stay for dinner?”

“I believe that I could do that,” Spock said.

When his mother pulled away, still smiling, he was not alone for long. Jim’s hand settled on his shoulder, and he glanced over to see Jim just… looking at him.

“I never thought I’d see you again,” Jim whispered. “Not really. But my relief can wait. Why don't you take some time, walk around the house? Amanda’s making her homemade lasagna, which takes hours to prepare, and baby you will be waking up for your nap soon, and he -- you? -- seem to prefer me to anyone else for about ten minutes after your naps.”

“This is… bizarre.”

“Yeah,” Jim said, grinning. “It is. I got to hold you only a few hours after you were born. That was weird, let me tell you.” Jim’s face became far more serious, but his eyes still shone. “I'm so ready to go home, Spock.” He took a deep, shaky breath before continuing with, “I was beginning to forget.”

“Forget?”

“Forget exactly what Bones’ drawl sounds like, especially before he had his coffee; forget the different ways you have of raising your eyebrows; forget the glint Sulu gets in his eyes while fencing; forget how flushed Scotty’s face gets when arguing over theoretical physics.”

“Well,” Spock said. “I am here now. You need not worry any more.”

Jim gave him a warm, thankful look before gesturing to the rest of the house with a, “Go on. I'll be in your nursery.”

“And my mother will be in the kitchen,” Spock murmured. “Preparing my favorite dish.”

“Yeah.” Jim’s eyes were sympathetic but understanding. “She will be.”

***

Jim could see how difficult it was for Spock to leave his mother, and he understood. It would be difficult for him to leave Amanda, too, especially seeing as they had grown very close over the past eleven months. Sarek wouldn't be sad to see him gone, but he knew that Amanda would miss him, too. Having another Human to talk to was immensely relieving.

“Hey, Spock,” Jim said when they had a moment in private. “Do you want to try and bring something back? Not something huge, obviously, but maybe just some sand?”

Spock contemplated that, and then nodded. He disappeared into the house, as they had been in Amanda’s garden, and returned minutes later with a simple glass container that looked like a flower vase. Jim watched silently as Spock knelt down and scooped up some sand inside of it.

“I have so little left of both my mother and my planet,” Spock said quietly. “I will be… incredibly thankful should I be able to return with even this.”

Amanda stepped out into the garden, little Spock seated on her hip. Little Spock stared wide-eyed at Spock, one small hand holding on tight to Amanda’s scarf, and Jim had to resist the urge to laugh.

“You're such a cute baby,” Jim commented. “Did you grow out of your curls, or…?”

“I did not,” Spock said, sounding reluctant.

Jim gasped joyfully and stared at Spock with giant eyes, grinning widely. Amanda began to laugh quietly.

“You straighten your hair?” Jim asked gleefully.

“Affirmative.”

“This is amazing,” Jim said. “I'm speechless.”

“Clearly you are not.”

Jim laughed, and baby Spock began to giggle as well. Amanda looked at them and smiled, her eyes showing genuine happiness.

“I haven't seen you smile like this in the entire time you've been here, James,” Amanda commented.

“Not that you weren't an amazing hostess,” Jim said. “You were. I was just homesick, and worried.”

“I understand,” Amanda said. “I would be homesick, too.”

They all fell quiet, the silence comfortable as the sun began to set. The only disruption was baby Spock’s noises, burbles and gentle giggles. When the sun was about halfway set, Spock looked at Jim, and then his mother.

“We should depart, now,” Spock eventually said.

“Alright,” Jim replied.

Amanda disappeared to set a sleeping Spock down in his bed before returning to the foyer, where Jim and Spock lingered. She carried something behind her back when she entered, and Spock tipped his head in a way that made Jim want to kiss him.

“I have a feeling that you don't have much left of me,” Amanda said quietly.

“You are correct,” Spock replied, just as quietly.

“Are you sure you aren't actually telepathic?” Jim asked.

“I'm sure,” Amanda said, laughingly. “I… here's something to bring back with you.”

She brought her hands out from behind her back and held them out to Spock. In them rested a beautiful glass perfume bottle, a pale purple liquid inside. Spock reached out with hands that trembled just the slightest bit, something Jim only noticed because he was looking. Jim was holding the sand, so Spock was able to cradle the perfume in both hands.

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Amanda gave them both slightly teary smiles and rushed forward to embrace them one at a time. Jim was first, and then Spock.

“Goodbye,” she whispered to Spock. When she stepped back from their hug, she turned to Jim and asked, “Will I ever see you again, before I die?”

“No,” Jim replied.

“Well then, goodbye to you, too.”

Jim smiled sadly at her, his chest aching. He could only imagine what Spock was feeling, but Spock gave nothing away as they departed. On the sands in front of Spock’s house, the two men linked arms and, after some foreign words, disappeared.

The return trip was far less taxing on his body than the trip there, and Jim was thankful. They appeared- standing, this time- in the same location that Jim had disappeared from.

“Christ on a bike, kid,” came McCoy’s exasperated drawl. “Are you incapable of following suggestions from your own first officer?”

Jim had never been happier to hear the annoyed drawl, and he whirled around, face splitting into a wide, relieved grin. Bones looked a little worried as Jim cried, “Bones!” and then launched himself at the doctor. Bones was warm and smelled nice, and Jim didn't think he would ever be so relieved to see Bones again.

“I forgot what you smelled like,” Jim said into Bones’ shoulder, not even caring about how weird the words sounded.

“What?”

“While the captain was only missing for eleven days, the duration from his perspective was eleven months.”

“El-” Bones shoved Jim away, hands on his shoulders. “Jim, oh my god, do you have any idea how damaged your skin could've gotten? _Eleven months on Vulcan,_ dear God, I don't-”

“The captain is currently inhabiting the body he had when he engaged the ritual. You will not have to treat him for anything, doctor. It is physically as if he has not been gone for more than eleven days.”

“That's so weird,” Jim said, turning to face Spock. “I'm physically like I was when I left, but-” Jim looked down at the sand he carried and at the perfume that Spock held. “-we were able to bring stuff back with us.”

“What did you bring back?” Bones asked, sounding suspicious. “You guys know we can't bring foreign plants back on board.”

“There are no plants, and even if there were, they wouldn't be foreign. They'd be Vulcan. We brought some sand and perfume.”

“Perfume?”

“It belonged to my mother,” Spock said, and Bones had the good grace to stay quiet.

“Why don't we all go home?” Jim suggested.

Bones nodded, placing a hand on Jim’s shoulder.

“Scotty,” Bones said into a communicator. “Seven to beam up.”

“Aye, Doctor!” Scotty declared cheerfully.

Before the transporter took them, Spock stepped up next to Jim and brushed his first two fingers against Jim’s in a subtle kiss. Jim glanced over at him, besotted

“Welcome home,” Spock murmured.

“It's good to be back,” Jim whispered, and they all dissolved into golden light.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, guys! It's been a bit, but I'm glad to share this with you all! I hope you enjoyed it!


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